For Tonight
by snowyplains
Summary: [NS] as usual. Nick POV as he consoles Sara.


Title: For Tonight  
Author: snowyplains  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, and CBS/Alliance Atlantis/Jerry Bruckheimer does  
Note: This story is very loosely based on Cloud Number Nine by Bryan Adams. As usual, I try to keep the cheese factor low, but how successful I am is another story. And as a bit of a digression, I love reading stories where they get together in the end, but in my stories, I like to keep them separated and lonely =)

She shows up at my door.  
  
She wasn't crying, but she didn't need to be.   
  
I let her in, and brought her a beer from the fridge while she sat down on my couch. She told me, stolidly, what happened. She had gone to a restaurant after work to pick up something to eat, and watched as he walked in with someone else. And she had simply stalked out. She didn't wait for her food. She didn't confront him. She just left.  
  
And drove her car straight to my place.   
  
I didn't say anything. I just let her talk. Nothing's changed from high school. I'm still the dependable one. I was the first one she thought to come to, and here she is. I'm not the one she wants, and I never will be.  
  
She's mad at herself. Mad that she didn't see this coming. Mad that she always picks the wrong guy. I'm not an option. She doesn't even consider me a possibility. There are many explanations for this. Maybe she doesn't find me attractive. Maybe I don't show enough interest in her. Maybe I'm just not good enough overall.   
  
From all the choices, that one hurts the most.   
  
She obviously finds me trustworthy. And she has told me in the past, not in so many words, that I was attractive. But maybe I'm still missing something.   
  
She's pacing back and forth now. I stare at her as she restlessly tries to sort out her feelings. When Sara's distraught, she shows it, but not in a flamboyant explosion that I'm used to with most girls. I'm more reminded of glass, cracking slowly at the edges. Her voice is even, not tinged with emotion, and her words are rational and clear.   
  
Sometimes, I wish she would just let go. I can tell she's fighting back tears, even though its not obvious at all. I wouldn't say I love her, not yet. But I care so much about her it almost hurts. And I want to be with her.   
  
To her credit, she had always seemed happy with him. Happiness that I looked at with a mixture of jealousy and resignment. But as long as she was content, I figured I could live with whoever she chose. Quite evidently, she's not, but I still can't bring myself to say something.  
  
She's worn herself out, and flops back onto the couch lifelessly, motioning for another beer. I grin at her before passing her another one. I can tell she's beginning to see humor in her situation. She props her feet up on my coffee table, and leans on me while she's draining her beer. She sighs deeply, and mumbles something about all men being dogs.   
  
In that case, I wonder what she thinks of me.   
  
Her cell phone rings, and she runs into the other room to answer it. She comes back, pale and shaken. It was him. He had called, asking her where she was. He didn't know that she saw him with another girl. I stand up and hug her. Sara stands stiff, allowing me to hold her, but not returning any affection. She glares at her phone and throws it on the couch before she looks down, leaning her head on my chest, leaving her arms at her sides, straight and dangling.   
  
She doesn't think anyone wants to be with her.   
  
She's wrong.   
  
She asks if she can stay the night. She doesn't try to justify her request, or water it down.   
  
I nod, and offer to sleep on the couch. She smirks at me and tells me not to bother with that juvenile crap. I have a double bed, and we're both responsible adults that can handle sleeping in the same bed for one night. As long as I was okay with it, of course.   
  
Why wouldn't I be?  
  
I let go of her reluctantly, and go to find her an old t-shirt and shorts she can sleep in, while she washes her face in the bathroom. I stand outside and hand them to her when she opens the door.   
She doesn't need the shorts, she says. The shirt is so big it'll reach her knees, and its a warm night outside. She's so beautiful, I'm not sure how she could ever think that no one wants her.   
  
I do my nightly routine in the bathroom and when I walk into my room, she's already in bed, the window open. She's right, it is hot outside.   
  
I get into bed gingerly, trying not to touch her unnecessarily. She turns over to face me, reaches over and squeezes my hand. I kiss her on the forehead, and she smiles before closing her eyes.   
  
I already know what's going to happen tomorrow.  
  
She's going to wake up, comfortable but a bit embarassed, and will head home to get showered and changed before work. When I wake up, she'll already be gone.  
  
We'll bump into each other a few times during the course of the day at the lab, and nothing more than friendly words will be exchanged. It'll be like tonight had never happened.   
  
And maybe if we see each other in the locker room, and no one else is there, she'll thank me for last night, not quite looking in my eyes. She'll simulateneously lighten the mood and change the subject by teasing me about something. And then, we'll both walk out the building, maybe together, maybe not. We'll get into our respective cars, and we'll drive to our respective homes. Alone.  
  
But for now, Sara's sleeping next to me, not touching, but very close. And for tonight, that's enough.


End file.
